


A Very Johnlock Christmas

by MelindaGhost



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, December - Freeform, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mistletoe, a few snippets of christmas songs, a lil bit smut, eventual marene maybe, maybe mystrade - Freeform, maybe puppies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaGhost/pseuds/MelindaGhost
Summary: Basically what John and Sherlock get up to in the time leading up to Christmas





	1. December 1st

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defnearas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defnearas/gifts).



> I am not sure if I will actually manage to upload a chapter a day, but I will try my best so you can read about what they are doing every day and maybe compare it to your plans or get some ideas... although I am not sure how original their plans are going to be.
> 
> As I said my plan is to get one chapter up every day until christmas, but please don't get mad at me should I fall behind (Uni is stressful and can kill my creativity quite a bit) Also I cannot guarantee that every chapter will be as long as the first one. Some might get a little bit longer and others might be considerably shorter. Still I hope this will maybe get some of you in the right mood for this time of the year.
> 
> P.S: rating is for a later chapter, possibly more than one
> 
> (also I am counting this as my christmas present for defnearas. Hope you can enjoy it :))

December 1st

It had taken surprisingly little coercion to get Sherlock to agree on a real Christmas tree this year. The years before they'd had a little plastic tree, but this year a lot of things would be different. It was their first Christmas as a couple and it seemed as if Sherlock was just as keen to make it special as John was.

“'It's the season. Love and understanding. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

The Christmas music was quietly playing in the background and John found himself humming along to the well known tunes. “It's amazing that they went to all the trouble setting up speakers all through the woods.” Sherlock hummed in reply, hands in his coat pocket. He was too focused on determining which tree would be the perfect fit for their living room. John stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his partner, who leant back against his comforting warmth. “What about that green one over there?” Sherlock laughed in a deep baritone. “You do know that all of them are green, love?” Blushing and yet chuckling, John pressed his face further in Sherlock's coat. The cool fabric rubbing against his skin. “You know what I mean... The one with the green band at the top”

It took them a long while to find the right tree, constantly distracted by the ones that were: “Too sparse”, “Too thin; It looks like you after a week long case”, “Too tall, we'd have to chop off half of it” and “You must be kidding me”. Right when they were about to call it a day and continue their search in a different place tomorrow, they found it, the tree that fit perfectly into their flat without making it appear too cramped, or purchased last minute, when all the good ones had already been taken. And as if fate was with John today, it was a green one. 

“I think you made a brilliant observation there, John. It does add to the room quite nicely. Maybe we should permanently add it to our décor.” John huffed. They had somehow succeeded in transporting the pine tree back home and, after arguing about whether they needed additional wood slacks to fixate it in it's stand or if folded cardboard would suffice, also in setting it up. Once it had dropped overnight and they had their wicked way with decorating it, it would certainly be the nicest Christmas tree in the whole of London. “Yeah, I don't think we could keep it alive for that long and I dare say it gets a bit harder to buy a Christmas tree in July, compared to now. Although it would probably not surprise anyone, given your habit to decorate our little home with special out-of-place... adornments.” He threw an amused look at the skull sitting on their mantelpiece and made his way over to where Sherlock was standing. Sherlock turned towards his partner and embraced him, burying his head in his neck and kissing the sensitive skin there. “Now, while we wait to add our finishing touches to that tree, I have a brilliant idea to keep us busy.” The smirk in his voice didn't go unnoticed.


	2. December 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 2 brings us the time for baubles

December 2nd

The theme for their Christmas tree this year was “diversity”. Originally it was supposed to mean colourful lights and different coloured baubles than usual. Somehow that is not exactly what had happened.

It had started off normal enough. As anyone would, really, they had spent way too much time on entangling the fairy lights and not even nearly enough on planning out how they want to go on about this, which if John thought about it, seemed very unlike Sherlock.

Usually Sherlock would spend literal hours thinking about the best shopping route, which usually ended in John going milk shopping instead.  
Now one could argue that was just because Sherlock found the task of buying milk so tediously boring, that he rather spent an hour looking at the same three routes on google maps to figure out the exact time those would be the most crowded, the most dangerous, the least dangerous and for some reason, the least smelly. The blogger, however, thought his partner was just too lazy, when in reality Sherlock used the time for very interesting research for an even better surprise, or so he hoped at least.

So, naturally, they had ended up with over one and a half metres left when they arrived at the very top of the tree. John had insisted that it was fine, if they just wrapped the rest over the tip it would actually make the star more stable. Sherlock hadn't even wasted a second before he came up with at least ten different maths and physics rules that clearly showed that John was an idiot, albeit a most lovely and hot idiot. Needless to say they took the whole thing down again, which was a hell of a struggle as the tree seemed to have absorbed the string of lights into it's very depths. Stinging needles poked themselves into their naked hands and arms and after more than just a few yelps they finally hat the lighting sorted out.

Sherlock harrumphed which made John break out in giggles. Slowly he embraced his partner and with a loving kiss to the side of his neck, the scowl vanished. “Come on. Now comes the easy and fun part.” “John... You know I always have fun when we do anything together, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes.” “I know, love. Now let's get cracking on with this.” John patted his lover's waist and moved to the box of decorations they had bought together... and some that Sherlock had bought without him noticing, it seemed. Right on top lay two very much naked and very pink men-baubles, that hold an uncanny resemblance to two, currently clothed, men he knew. And again John couldn't help but to chuckle.  
“Gosh you are absolutely ridiculous sometimes, you know that, right?”  
“And yet you still love me, what does that say about you?” Sherlock's voice had an amused undertone to it as well, even though he refrained from giggling, for now.  
“That is precisely why I love you. Nothing beats being ridiculous with you.” They beamed at each other as they both picked up the bauble representing the other and placed them, side by side, at the front of the tree.

Another hour later they were done. Lying down on the sofa, snuggled close together, they spent the rest of the evening exchanging lazy kisses and looking at their somewhat unusual ornaments, until they finally fell asleep. Happy smiles gracing both their faces.


	3. December 3rd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 shows us that adults can have advent calendars too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an explicit chapter, so beware.

December 3rd 

“Now I am well aware that I am a little bit late with this, but I thought you might like it anyway.”  
John had gotten up especially early this morning to arrange this, which had proven to be quite difficult since first of all Sherlock had had a terror grip on him this morning and secondly he wasn't very proficient in making things adhere to the wall.

John was currently escorting Sherlock to their living room. “Okay, you can open your eyes.” Sherlock, who was already seemingly excited, and not just for the surprise, it was the morning after all and he didn't have time to take care of a certain thing yet, blinked. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the bright light the tree was emitting, but when they did he let out a tiny squeal he would for ever deny if John brought it up. On the wall above their couch hung a self made advent calender. He was by far too old to feel this jolly, but damn it he was practically buzzing. “I took the liberty of straying from the original chocolate filling a bit.” John's smirk didn't help quieten Sherlock's feeling of curiosity and with one thank you kiss to John's cheek he turned his full attention to the mystery on his wall.

The first day clearly did bare some kind of chocolate though, his favourite one as well; dark Lindt chocolate. The second day revealed a new pair of leather gloves and this day was a bottle of... lotion? “Oh … not exactly lotion then.” John smirked. “Not a lotion, no. But it's strawberry flavoured, so I bet it smells delicious as well.” With a glint in his eyes he moved to stand in front of his partner. “And when did you think we could test this?” His voiced dropped in tone, sending shivers down John's spine. Instead of answering John took the small bottle of lube and sank to his knees, on eye level with his lovers still very prominent morning erection.

The detective gasped as John pulled down his pyjama bottoms and his prick sprang free, cool air hitting the moist head. Spreading his legs a little for balance, he nodded his okay and buried his hand in John's hair. The blonde man moaned at the heavy feeling of Sherlock's sturdy hand on his head and the slight pull of his hair. He took a few seconds to admire his partner's cock before giving it an experimental lick. “John...please!” He chuckled. He knew how much Sherlock enjoyed being sucked off. Swift fingers flipped the cap of the lube open as he grabbed the base of his partner's shaft and dribbled a few drops of strawberry flavoured liquid on Sherlock's stomach and prick, creating a trail.

Sherlock's breath stuttered in anticipation as he felt the cool liquid running down over his body. He craved John's mouth on his hot flesh and watched as he licked his lips, before descending on him, slowly working his way from navel to cock. He moaned, partly in frustration because John took his bloody time with it.

It was clear to John that Sherlock was losing his, already pretty frail, patience and usually he liked taking his sweet time exploring every inch of his lover, building up his pleasure as he went. Now, however, he found it pretty hard to restrain himself and so, against his better judgement, he licked the remaining fruity lubricant of the cock in front of him and finally took the head into his mouth, engulfing if with his lips. “Oh fuck, John!”

Mrs. Hudson, who had been about to bring the boys their morning tea, smiled to herself and placed the tray on their doorstep.  
This would be a very happy Christmas indeed.


	4. December 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 4th, a monday and a great day for a new case
> 
> (tw: rape mention, not detailed tho)

December 4th

Monday; A fresh new week and what better way to kick it off with, than a fresh new case?

December brings the time of love and the Christmas spirit, but what happens to those who have neither?  
The answer is as simple as it is sad – They retaliate. Driven by their depression and anger they find companionship in violence, some more literally than others. As it turns out, on Sunday night there had been another case of sexual abuse at a karaoke bar in South London.

The victim had been drugged about half an hour before the rapist advanced on her. The problem was that the drugs made her, probably already pretty small capability of observation, even less accessible, and although she got away - well passed out on the floor to be found by the cleaner - she cannot remember anything of importance about her predator. Well, that was if you were the police. Sherlock Holmes on the other hand though, already had a pretty good idea about what their guy looked like.

So when the evening came Sherlock and John were to be found at the bar. John had taken up a position of one of the bouncers, while Sherlock was dressed to party, observing the inside of the crime scene. It didn't take long to spot the perpetrator. Rapists were never as careful as they thought and not even two hours later the guy was arrested, meaning that London was now just a tiny bit safer. 

“You do know that you look perfectly edible in those trousers, don't you?”  
Even without a great chase or much of a brawl, the adrenaline was rushing through John's blood.  
“Do I? I knew there was a reason why I chose them.” Smirking Sherlock stole a quick kiss from his bouncer, before pulling him into a secluded alleyway.  
“hmm.. Do you really want to do this here?”, John asked. His back was now pressed against an unquestionably filthy wall. A grunt was all the answer and warning he got before Sherlock attacked his neck and nipped at that one spot just below his ear. John let out a low moan, knees going weak, while other parts of his anatomy stiffened in response. Heat was flowing through him, keeping him warm even in these freezing temperatures.

Someone had just finished “let it go” from frozen, ending it with the words “The cold never bothered me anyway.” And in that moment John Watson couldn't agree more.


	5. December 5th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold DID bother John

December 5th

His terrible coughing woke him up the next day. Admittedly it might not have been their best idea to have a shag outside in December, but if you were to ask them they would say it was well worth it. Now, though, John felt rotten. His throat hurt and if he wasn't careful his nose might just run away from him. With a sigh he sat up and eventually made his way out of their bedroom and to the kitchen, where he could hear something boiling.

Sherlock had already gotten up an hour ago – after John's constant coughing and sneezing had prevented him from sleeping any further – and decided to might as well make himself useful. After all, the faster John stopped coughing like a 60 year old chain smoker, the sooner they could spent their time doing most exciting things. Plus Sherlock had really come to enjoy running on a, what is considered normal, amount of sleep – It stopped his brain from overworking itself too much.  
Setting up a brew he started on a special chicken soup that he was quite positive, would cure John's cold in no time.

Moaning, John shuffled up next to Sherlock. “Morning, love. Slept well I assume?”  
“Ha. Bloody ha! This is all your fault anyway” John's voice definitely did not sound whiny at all.  
Snorting, Sherlock retorted: “Well, It's not like you complained.” He ruffled Johns hair and pressed a quick kiss on top, before he continued. “I did make you soup that will make you feel better and potentially cure your cold by tomorrow. There is a 98 per cent Chance I would say.”  
“Sherlock... You never cook.”  
“Doesn't mean I can't. I'll have you know that cooking is a lot like chemistry and before you say anything: No, I did not put any chemicals or body parts in it... Even though I can only recommend eyeball tea. Now go and take a seat. I will pour you some soup and then we can watch one of those ridiculous Christmas films you love so much.” That made John laugh. “Are you sure it isn't you who secretly loves “the Grinch”?  
“I think the fact that you are practically dating the Grinch speaks for it self, John”  
Suddenly it seemed as if most of his confidence had left Sherlock. He still couldn't comprehend how someone as passionate as John could be with someone as cold as him.  
“You're right. Now come on over here. I need someone to keep me warm and I want my snarly but loving and caring boyfriend Grinch.”

Together they snuggled up under a blanket and sipped their soup whilst first watching The Grinch and then Love Actually.  
“You really do look a lot like that fake John, John” “Shut up, Sherlock he looks nothing like me.” Pouting, John crossed his arms over his chest. Managing to hold that look for about a full three seconds, before giving in to the laughter. “You are an idiot – No! Don't be offended. A wise man once told me that basically everybody is. I love you.” “I love you too... Idiot.” They shared a quick kiss before John had to sneeze again. “Oh God. I hope you won't get ill as well, now.”


	6. December 6th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a 6 year old can be more efficient than two fully fledged adults.

December 6th 

“It said it is for children aged 6”  
“Impossible!” Sherlock huffed. They had been at this for over two hours with mediocre progress. Today's advent calender present, that hadn't really fit in the pouch, was a Lego pirate ship. And it was bloody frustrating. Sherlock could have sworn that at least a dozen tiny pieces were missing, while another dozen different pieces had no use in this whole thing. Even Ikea furniture was easier to build, as Sherlock had found out when he had to build a huge closet in Switzerland. That one was quite a peculiar case. 

“I swear to God, when we are done with this I better get a reward”  
“John, this was your present for me. This is entirely your fault. So really, if anyone should get a reward it is me”

But even after two more hours the pirate ship was only half complete. “Fuck this shit! Sherlock can we please continue this on another day?” Sherlock sighed. “This is completely ridiculous. It doesn't make sense. If it's supposed to be for one 6 year old. How come two grown men cannot build it? I might give up on my dream of becoming a pirate and boarding the ship after all.” John laughed. “I mean, if you really want to you can hop on a different ship” It took Sherlock three strides to come face to face to John, only inches away from his lovers face. “Admit it, you planned this only so we would have passionate sex afterwards, driven by our mutual hate towards this stupid Lego.”  
“I will only admit to this situation having, at least, this one positive side-effect and I fully plan on using it to both our benefits.” John attacked the mouth before him, drawing a small growl from Sherlock's throat. “That might just be acceptable”


	7. December 7th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie Oliver really doesn't know how to make pancakes

December 7th 

John's cold had vanished completely and somehow Sherlock had managed not to catch it from him either. So as a thank you for the soup Sherlock had made him two days ago, John had decided to get up early today to make himself and his favourite person on this planet, a nice breakfast they could devour in bed. His original food plan was completely ruined by the fridges content though and although he was pleased to see neither thumbs nor heads, he also couldn't spot any bacon or cheese or sausages. Instead he took out some eggs and, surprisingly, milk. Fishing out some flour, sugar and salt from the cupboards he decided to do pancakes instead. Only problem is, he didn't know how to make them so he had to google a recipe first. While he searched he mumbled to himself “Home-made savoury pancakes...No, nothing really savoury left is there? Jamie Oliver pancakes. Well that sounds good”

Okay. So what did he need? 3 eggs. The last three in the fridge. 115 grams of flour. Yes, there it was a brand new packet of flour. Come to think of it, he had no idea why they even bought it in the first place, considering that they never really used any... Well, he supposed it was a good thing though. One heaped teaspoon of baking powder. John shuddered, he remembered the last time he used baking powder instead of self raising flour and he was quite sure the oven did as well. 140 millilitres of milk. Right here it comes the moment of truth. How much was still in this bottle? 207. Well that was settled then and the last ingredient was just a pinch of salt. Frowning he put the sugar back on the shelf. “I could have sworn you would need that for pancakes”

He tried his best to follow the minimal instructions and at the same time be as quiet as possible, which had the disadvantage of not being able to use the electric mixer they had gotten from Mrs. Hudson – You would think she wanted them to make their own bakes from now on. She is not their housekeeper after all – so it did take a little while longer and a lot more muscle strength, but eventually the stiff egg-whites were folded into the rest of the mixture, ready to be poured into a hot pan.

He did about four, using about a third of the mixture, before he actually showed the common sense to try one. And he was glad he did. “Oh my God! That is completely disgusting, no wonder it seemed wrong to not put any sugar in. It's completely over salted” After having spit out whatever had remained from the pancake into the sink, he put the sugar back out and put a good amount, probably too much but better too sweet than too salty, into the batter, mixed it again and poured the rest creating 8 new and thoroughly improved pancakes. “And you'd think someone with as big a name as Jamie Oliver would actually know how to make pancakes”, shaking his head he put the salty ones on a plate, and then distributed the tasty ones evenly between another two plates. A near devious plan was forming in his head  


Sherlock was still asleep when John came in with the tray, so he took the opportunity and hid the third plate next to his side of the bed, before placing the tray down crawling on on top of Sherlock to give him a good morning kiss and cuddle that should definitely wake him up. “Morning, Sleepyhead” Sherlock grunted and rolled over, effectively shaking John off of him. “I've made us some breakfast” John laughed. He got up so that Sherlock could stretch himself and then placed the tray on Sherlock's legs, before quickly grabbing the good plate, opening the Nutella and smearing some on his pancakes. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, whether that was because he was genuinely hungry, or because there was a slight smudge of Nutella on John's bottom lip, he didn't quite know. 

Sherlock finally bit into his own pancakes and sputtered. “Something wrong, love?” John asked him innocently. “Chrm... It's fine. The pancakes are really good” Sherlock searched for his glass of water that he kept on the night stand and was visibly relieved when he could take a gulp and wash the flavour of salt away. “Oh, do you really think so?”, John chuckled, “Good, then I can eat the other plate of sweet ones as well... When I tried yours I was thinking that Jamie Oliver doesn't know a thing about cooking and added sugar to the rest of the mixture and hid another plate right here” He bend down and retrieved it to show it to Sherlock, grinning widely. “Oh give it here, you git” Sherlock lunged for the good pancakes and huffed at John “Why did you make me try these then anyway?” John who was now full on laughing, could only press out something along the lines of: “If I have to you have to as well.” Sherlock's face slowly morphed into a grin as well. “Fine.” He captured John's face in his hands and locked their lips together for a proper kiss. “Thank you for making breakfast.” John smiled, leaning his forehead against Sherlock's.  
“You are very welcome. You'll have to accompany me to go grocery shopping today though. We've got nothing in the fridge.”  
“Mhmm... Or we could order take away.” Sherlock suggested, making John laugh again. He shook his head before shooting Sherlock a fond glance.  
“ You are incorrigible.”


	8. December 8th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is a weird one today. I do apologise if it is, I'm not feeling my best today.

December 8th

Sherlock had been very convincing about the advantages of ordering in, but they really couldn't fall back into the habit of ordering take away every day – well, at least not, when they weren't currently working on a 7, or higher rated, case. 

Since John had taken up the evening shift for the day, Sherlock and himself were both free this morning.

“Waitrose should be quite empty, right now”. And so their decision was made. 

“So, what do we need?” They should maybe start thinking about that before they actually arrive at the shops. It would certainly save them some time.  
“John, we have to get those chocolate sprouts here!” Sherlock's face was contorted into a mask of fascination.  
“Sherlock, you don't even like sprouts... or milk chocolate.”  
“Exactly! And yet I want to try these. Fascinating!”  
John rolled his eyes, but gave in and tossed the chocolate into the trolley anyway. “Fine, but don't come moaning to me about how disgusting they are once you tried them.”  
Sherlock forced a shocked gasp. “Wouldn't ever dream of it, you know me.” John snorted. “Exactly!”  
They continued their shopping without much fuss, buying enough food to last them until, at least, the next week.

As soon as they had arrived back home, Sherlock – very helpfully – went through all of the bags, nearly breaking their eggs, to find his chocolate sprouts. Once uncovered, he tore at the packaging, opened one up and popped it in his mouth.

John was already packing things away, when he heard the chocking noise, followed by Sherlock spitting out his chocolate. “told you, Posh Boy!”  
“Are you calling me posh, because I am related to the Queen?”  
“I don't know, your quite the Drama Queen yourself. Come on I'll just take the sprouts to work later and feed them to all the spoiled wailing children.”  
“Shouldn't you punish them, rather than treating them with sweets?”  
John laughed. “Are you requesting anything specific, Posh Boy?”

If John was late for work that day it was entirely Sherlock's fault and he should really be spanked for being such a naughty boy.


	9. December 9th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baking is hard... a lot harder than science, but also more rewarding. Especially Mrs. Hudsons gingerbread-men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKay so we are officially one day behind, because I didn't manage to upload anything yesterday... I am sorry, but I warned you that could happen. I might be able to catch up again, tho.

December 9th

Today was baking day. Mrs. Hudson had given them her award winning gingerbread recipe, only under the strict premise that it will not be published, of course. Her friend Mrs. Turner, who's got the married ones next door, has been trying to get her hands on it for years now. For good reason too, John's mouth began to water even from just thinking about the delicious baked goods.

“Sherlock, you might want to grab yourself an apron.”  
“I would prefer not to. I am not a child John, I can take care of my clothes - “, he paused looking John up and down. “Besides, I am not sure that amount of cleavage would look good on me” John broke out into laughter. “Yeah, remind me why we are friends with Irene again? Although I am not entirely sure you couldn't pull of this lingerie.” He circled his hips, showing off the panties and bra the woman on the apron was wearing. Sherlock blushed, but decided to say nothing, rather than getting caught up in conversations that would delay their baking even further. 

There was very little that Sherlock enjoyed more on a cold winter's day, than a hot cup of tea and one of Hudders gingerbread cookies. He often times even found himself wanting to dissect them into every precise ingredient, but couldn't bear to waste any. It's one of the very few times his lust wins over his mind.

Now following a clear structured recipe apparently wasn't as easy as it sounded; They got most every measuring wrong and half of the ingredients didn't even land in the bowl. Who knew cracking up eggs and separating the whites from the yolks could be so hard – of course Sherlock could have just let John do it, as he managed pretty well with the pancakes, but where would the fun be in that.

Once they finally had all of the ingredients in one big bowl, they brought out the electric mixer, hoping to combine the liquefied with the powders and solids. “Go on then Mr. 'I can take care of my clothes'. I will let you do the honours.” Smirking, Sherlock took the machine from John and plugged it in, turned it on at near full speed and proceeded to then lower it into the bowl. Needless to say that most of the flour didn't survive. The whole counter top was covered in white powder and the air think and foggy. John, caught in a fit of coughs and giggles, had to support his weight, coating his hands in white. “Okay, okay. I'll do it.” With a pat to Sherlock's bum, John took control over the mixing, while Sherlock leaned against his back, slithering his long arms around John's waist.

An hour later and the first batch was done. The whole flat smelled delicious and both 221b boys agreed on taking a break while the next batch smothered in the oven. Tea in one hand and gingerbread-man in the other they settled into their armchairs. The fire was lit and it was cosy, warm. Both men had earned more flour handprints all over their bodies and were now quietly looking at each other, smirking, daring the other to say something. But neither one did, and so they just enjoyed their companionable silence, until they had to take the next cookies out and start on the icing.


	10. December 10th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft still has cameras everywhere... for security reasons only of course, but every now and then he cannot stop himself to interfere with their plans a bit. So he requests a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song I used is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZp6pmgbZyU) but I personally prefer [the movie version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuJebKFFzrY)
> 
> Hopefully this embedded link thing works ^^

December 10th

 

When Sherlock and John entered the kitchen the next morning, they wished they had stayed in bed instead. The baking had lasted a lot longer than they had anticipated, especially since they iced every individual gingerbread creation as well – and they had got a bit distracted icing each other in between, not with ye old standard frosting either, if you get my hint. Anyway, it was safe to say that things got a bit messy and although they took great care their bakes remained edible and didn't get anything on them that didn't belong there, they couldn't say the same about the rest of the kitchen.

 

“Are two tins full of Gingerbread really worth having to clean up afterwards?”, John muffled. His chin was buried in his dressing gown and he had problems suppressing the yawns that wanted to escape him. It was too bloody early. Sherlock just huffed, helped himself to one of the iced treats and settled on making tea. John finally let himself yawn a couple times and stretched himself, making a few joints in arms and back pop, before shuffling over to the radio on and tuning in to their favourite station.

 

After their questionable breakfast the kitchen could no longer be ignored. Groaning, they got up from the sofa and started planning out how to go on about this chaos – mostly to give them a few more moments of not actually doing anything, but the music and the radio moderators helped levitate the mood and so the both of them got more motivated to tackle their problem as well.

 

They had already cleaned the counter and started on the dishes, John cleaning and Sherlock drying, when the Radio guy said something interesting: “And now is the perfect time for any couple that is currently doing chores around the house, to just take a break and dance.” Frowning John and Sherlock looked at each other, shrugged and threw their cloths aside. John swiftly dried his hands on his jumper, before taking on the leading position for a slow waltz just as the song started playing.

 

 

_I set out on a narrow way, many years ago_ __  
_Hoping I would find true love along the broken road_ __  
_But I got lost a time or two_ __  
_Wiped my brow and kept pushin' through_ _  
_ _I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you_

 

John gasped. He hadn't known how much he missed dancing with Sherlock. They hadn't really done it since Sherlock taught him for that even, that would have certainly ruined his life, had he and Mary actually gone through with it. John sighed, leaning closer to Sherlock and closed his eyes.  


  
_Every long lost dream led me to where you are_ __  
_Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars_ __  
_Pointing me on my way into your loving arms_ __  
_This much I know is true_ __  
  
_That God blessed the broken road_ __  
_That led me straight to you_ _  
_ _Yes He did_

 

Sherlock was pretty sure that God didn't really exist, but in this moment, with this song and John in his arms, he didn't care. He was willing to believe a God existed, because he could not explain being in this position now, if there wasn't something greater that finally brought them together.

  
_I think about the years I spent, just passing through_ __  
_I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you_ __  
_But you just smile and take my hand_ __  
_You've been there, you understand_ __  
_It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true_  
  


They had wasted so much time. Years and years did John spent wondering about the what-ifs, too afraid of loosing Sherlock that he couldn't see what he would gain. And Sherlock had been brilliant about deducing other people, the only feelings that enigmated him where his own and John's. He never could see the admiration in John's eyes for what it truly was, and never noticed why exactly his stomach flipped whenever he made John smile, or twisted in pain, whenever John was in danger, or away from him. Tears welled in both eyes.

__  
_Every long lost dream led me to where you are_ __  
_Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars_ __  
_Pointing me on my way into your loving arms_ __  
_This much I know is true_ __  
  
_That God blessed the broken road_ __  
_That led me straight to you_  
  


But all of that didn't matter now, because even though they had hurt for so long, they had finally found each other. They had long ago stopped really dancing and were now just lying in each others arms, swaying to the music, holding each other tight and sniffling a bit. But they were happy, they had each other and that was all that counted.

 __  
But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms  
This much I know is true  
That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you  
That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @defnearas do you understand now, why I thought this was a great Johnlock song? ^^


	11. December 11th

December 11th

Present shopping with Mary and Irene was exhausting. They insisted that clothes made perfectly acceptable presents and therefore dragged John and Sherlock into every single clothing store that existed in London. “Why do we go present shopping with other people anyway? It doesn't make much sense, because we cannot buy any for them as long as we are together.”   
“That is easy, Sherly. There are many reasons, the most important two are that you love us and that you have the perfect chance to subtly question us about what we even want for Christmas.”   
Unfortunately, Irene was right. He was bad enough at social situations, getting people presents they might not expect, or want, or aren't ready for yet, just adds another layer of pressure on him. John sensed his tension and slipped his hand in Sherlock's squeezing once, before relaxing his grip.

Sherlock still wasn't used to all the things couples do, and so he and John were doing them as well, but after the first moment of confusion, he smiled at their joined hands and the tension in his shoulders reduced itself to a minimum. And although Sherlock was sceptical at first, he did find some good presents as well. He had a “Mine Is The Cake” shirt for Mycroft, which looked ridiculous, and he couldn't wait to see how it would look on him – He knew Mycroft would totally refuse to put it on, but Greg would make him anyway. For the aforementioned Greg they had bought a “Dum Dum Doughnuts” gift card, for all his doughnut needs, along with a new mug for the office that read “#1 DI'.

John had even managed to sneakily buy something small for Sherlock to probably put in his stocking. 

After hours of shopping, the four of them disappeared into a mostly unknown coffee shop, that Sherlock had deduced had the best comfort and coffee ratio in at least this part of town. All in all it had been a nice and fun day.


	12. December 12th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when there is snow? Why, build a Snowman of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's getting worse and worse and with that I mean my mood, my self- esteem and this story.... and no one cares, I know, sorry ^^

December 12th

It had snowed. A lot. In London.  
And a lot really meant a lot. Sherlock and John had not believed their eyes when they first woke up to those fluffy flocks of snow floating in the air outside their warm four walls. It never snowed in London, especially not that much and it also never settled into thick blankets as it had this morning.

John had looked at him with sparkling eyes and that really had been all it took to convince Sherlock to go and build a snowman with him. The walk to the park was freezing and for the first time in quite a while, Sherlock had wished he'd worn a hat. John had his hood on, but even that did little to keep the cold away from his ears. The wind was just too powerful to be outsmarted by something as simple as a hood and so it was quite hard to see sometimes, as the snow kept being blown into their faces. The snow seemed to be particularly fond of their lashes and they had to blink quite a lot to get rid of it, before a few seconds later their vision was blocked again. But they had fun, they made a point of laughing at the other when they had an especially bad case of blinkeritis – obviously only when their own vision was free for a second.

So it took them a little bit longer to arrive at the park as it normally would. Once there, however, the fun began. They weren't the only ones building snowmen either, they were surrounded by loads of children with their parents and to say that they did not fit in that scene just perfectly, would have been a lie.


	13. December 13th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the snowy fun isn't over yet.

December 13th

“That means war, brother mine.” Mycroft's voice was harsh and cold, but all Sherlock could do was grin broadly. He hadn't even intended to hit his older brother with the snowball, it just kind of happened, like it had a mind of it's own. 

It hadn't started with him any way. Greg had been the first who threw a compressed pile of snow in Sherlock's and John's general direction, so really it was his fault, but hell would freeze over before the older Holmes brother would ever seriously blame anything on his precious Detective Inspector.

John and Greg had been involved in a little war of their own until Sherlock had thrown that ball and now it was a two on two. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he had a snowball fight with Mycroft. It must have been over 20 years ago, back when he would refuse to ever take off his pirate hat. Even at Christmas dinner he would wear it with pride, not caring about what the fancy people who visited thought about him.

It felt freeing to finally laugh with his brother again, sure they didn't hate each other normally and Mycroft did care about his as well, but it was never this carefree between them. Everyone got their fair share of snow in their faces and on their clothes and they only stopped when it became too bloody freezing to stay outside for even just one more minute, talking amiably while walking up the stairs to 221b to prepare some special hot chocolates.


	14. December 14th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they are off to Paris.

December 14th 

The text had come unexpected, but not entirely unwanted. It had been a while since Sherlock had a case to work on and an even longer while since he had a case abroad. Well, he already had a good idea about what exactly had happened and who did it, but he would still need to see the crime scene in person, and the rest of the time he could use to freshen up on his French skills. Also Sherlock was quite sure that John had never been to Paris before, so that was an added bonus as well.

The plane they were supposed to catch, was scheduled for 1pm and although it was a close call – John had to take a few days off of work and Sarah wasn't happy about it, so they discussed things for well over half an hour, giving John very little time to actually pack his suitcase – they did manage to board the plane in time. 

The flight was short and pleasant, with enough people for Sherlock to deduce so he wouldn't get bored and with a loud enough general buzzing noise that people didn't hear either his deductions, nor John's giggling. 

John was excited, he had never been to France before and he seriously hoped they would have enough time to explore the city a bit. Even if they didn't, he would just insist on seeing the Eiffel Tower at night. It sounded ridiculously romantic, but he had always imagined to kiss someone there and that if it should happen, their love would last a life-time. It was really stupid, but he was determined to make it happen.

As expected Sherlock didn't need to look at the crime scene twice before giving the police a name, though they did have to stay at least another day while the police made sure it really was the right guy. So at not even quarter to 5 in the afternoon, Sherlock and John found themselves having nothing to do. The sun was already set, so they decided they would leave most of the sight seeing for tomorrow and instead went to the fanciest restaurant you could possibly find in this city. 

Leave it to Sherlock to know this kind of place and to be dressed in an according way, while John still just wore his Jumper with the classical informal shirt underneath. To say that he felt underdressed was a huge understatement, but for some reason they still let them sit inside, apparently Sherlock was dressed smartly enough for the both of them... Or maybe he just got the manager off of a murder charge. John giggled, drawing even more unwanted attention to him, but Sherlock took his hand and held it openly on their table and it was fine. Suddenly it was all fine.

They ended up ordering and devouring very small amounts of very expensive food and when it was time to get back to their hotel, Sherlock had told the cabbie to make a stop at the Eiffel Tower first, smiling at John whose eyes wouldn't stop sparkling afterwards. And after all those years of imagining it, John finally got his kiss in front of the lit Eiffel Tower.


	15. December 15th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris. The City of Romance? Or the City of Implied Kinks?

December 15th 

Turned out that, of course, Sherlock was right about the murderer and the Paris Police Refrecture where, if not really friendly or happy, kind enough to pretend that they were. That a British guy had solved a case they had been working on for weeks, in less than an hour, was certainly frustrating. If truth be told, Sherlock and John were surprised that they weren't downright nasty towards them, Sherlock himself wasn't a nice person himself and the French had a reputation for being very unfriendly towards all but their own. Well, exceptions prove the rule, or people should stop generalizing people.

“So, how did you learn French anyway?”

Sherlock sighed. His ballet days were hard days, but he had loved every single minute of it. “I learnt it when I was taking ballet lessons in the dance studio just around the corner, actually.” He half prepared himself for the ridicule he was used to getting, when talking about his dancing days.

“Ballet, huh? So you are a ballet dancer, who -” 

“Former ballet dancer, John”

“Well, yes, but I am sure you are still great. So you're a former, but I bet still one of the best, ballet dancers, who speaks fluent French? You, Mr. Holmes, are one hell of a sexy man” During his speech, John had stopped walking, effectively blocking Sherlock's way and fumbled with the genius' collar.

“And you are full of surprising kinks and fetishes, Captain.”

If both of their smirking faced were lightly tinted in red, they each were kind enough not to say anything about that. They had much more interesting things to talk about anyway.


	16. December 16th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Markets were great inventions... so was alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am deeply sorry that it took so long for this chapter.  
> As it is I cannot promise when the next one will be uploaded (or written) but I can assure you that I will finish this story (sooner or later)

December 16th

  
  


Back in London the Christmas markets were already making huge profits and John and Sherlock, as well as Mycroft, Greg and Mary were partly to blame for that. It was the evening and after John and Sherlock had argued about the usefulness of Christmas Market visits for about 2 hours, on and off, they had finally agreed to accompany their friends.

“We already have most of our Christmas presents, John”, Sherlock said, his tone doing nothing to hide his thoughts about their evening activities. “Right, Sherlock, I am not going to argue any further with you. We are already here and we've already discussed why. It's nice to hang out with your friends over Christmas time.” Sherlock took a deep breath, readying himself to talk back at John, who wouldn't have any of it. “Save your breath, Sherl. Just because we are having a Christmas party, doesn't mean we cannot enjoy other festive outings.” He turned away and a short time later, pushed a mug of hot mulled wine into Sherlock's hands. “Here, drink that and you'll loosen up”

About two hours later, John wished he'd found a different solution to putting an end to Sherlock's nagging. He didn't even know it was possible to get banned from a Christmas market, but apparently so. They had tried to get back in from the other side, but word spreads fast, even though neither John nor Sherlock - especially not Sherlock in his current state - knew how any message would reach it's destined receiver in a crowd like that. Nevertheless it seemed like they were stuck. Mary and Irene had managed to currently be out of sight so that they wouldn't be targeted as well and Greg and Mycroft, well they were everywhere and nowhere. They would probably not be banned either, given that they were the police and the British government in one.

So after they had tried and failed to re-enter the festive assembly of over-priced, and sometimes really random, huts - there had been one that sold brushes and brooms - John and Sherlock slowly made their way back home. It seemed as if every London Cabbie had agreed to never take a drunk Sherlock Holmes anywhere and so they had to stumble home, Sherlock leaning on John for support.

"John, I love you. You know that I know ash, right? Do you want to know what the best way to determine where tobacco came from is?" John chuckled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's mop of hair. "I love you too. Now let's get you home and then you can tell me all about your ashes and tobaccos"

  
  


 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bacon and interesting presents for two... also a killer hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to set the publication date to december last year, so it doesn't move the whole story into the 2018 statistics... It's a bit complicated... but I'll make it work

December 17th

  
  


It was a good thing that wrapping presents didn't require too much of an effort, or Sherlock might have started crying out of frustration, and that will say something. The last time he had come that close to crying was when, well, he didn't like to talk about it.

"Come on, I know you've got a hangover so just eat some of the damn bacon, will you? Also I need you to drink some water and take this pain killer."

Sherlock groaned. Although he normally wouldn't ever complain about John making too much noise – at least not since they started dating – but this hangover was getting the better of him and every noise was just sending throbbing waves of pain through his head.

Sherlock would lie if he said he didn't like John fussing all over him, making sure to get him back on his feet, but that didn't mean that he would ever admit it either. So he made sure to complain about everything once in a while, rolling his eyes when John pressed his hand against his forehead, sighing excessively at the bacon and then begin a tirade on how it is not the perfect touch of crispy, but he knew that John knew. And really it worked fine for them both, they had other areas of every day life where the constantly praised each other to the moon and back.

Sighing and trying to hide his smile, Sherlock picked at his bacon. The pain killer was slowly starting to kick in and really, this was one of the moments he was quite thankful for having John around. They somehow always managed to take care of each other when needed, which was more often then one would think, and they really did need each other as well, seeing as both of them don't really take care of themselves much.

“Sherlock, you really cannot complain about it not tasting good, if you wait until it's completely cold.” Sherlock snorted. Right, as if John's food would ever taste bad... Well, except for the salty pancakes of course.

“Well, it's quite hard to concentrate on bacon, if you are thinking about ravishing something hotter.” Sherlock winced, the rasping hadn't done his throat well and John's laughter didn't do anything quell the remaining dull headache either.

“Sorry, love.” John whispered, when he noticed. “But seriously, eat! And then you can help me wrap Irene's present... Why did we have to get her something so complex to wrap again?”

“A complex present, for a complex woman. Also it is like a two in one present. I am sure Mary will get pleasure from it as well.” Sherlock replied , mouth full of bacon, making John laugh again.

“You are incorrigible!”

 


	18. December 18th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas with the Watsons was always going to be stressful. Add a drunk Sherlock to the mix and your only hope will be Mrs. Hudson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a homophobic character in this chapter. Obviously I do not stand by what he says and he only serve as story telling device.
> 
> "I'm your father, not a plot device!" Yeah, yeah Mr. Watson.

December 18th

 

Christmas with the Watsons was always going to be hard. But neither John nor Shorlock – who probably knew more about them than John himself, or so he liked to think – had anticipated it to be this exhausting.

It had started out with an angry call from John's father who declared that he would “never in his life spend Christmas, a Christian holiday, with someone that direction inclined”. Needless to say, that had put quite the damper on the evening before it had even begun.

By the time Mrs. Watson and Harry had arrived, Sherlock had already changed his outfit several times, as well as putting a lot of effort into making sure there wasn't any alcohol in sight that might tempt John's sister to grab the bottle again.

As it turned out that was a needless attempt at making the evening more enjoyable. Harry was already reeking of alcohol when she came through the door and John's mother was looking worse for wear as well, no question that the 2 hour drive with Harry had been straining.

Half way through dinner had been when the catastrophe hit. There was so much shouting that it was hard to tell who said what. In the end it took Mrs. Hudson bulging in and politely but insistently asking the quests to leave, to put a halt to it. John, exhausted to the maximum, just hugged and kissed her cheek as a thank you before falling into bed without another word.

It took Sherlock another hour to join him. He though it best to give him some time to cool off and himself some time to down a few glasses of water and sober up a bit. “John? Are you still awake?”. There was no reply when Sherlock slithered between the sheets next to his boyfriend, but his breathing patterns spoke for themselves. “John, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse for you. I should have put a stop to it way sooner and I shouldn't have been drinking, or shouting. I am aware that I didn't help the situation in any way, love”. John sighed, and turned towards Sherlock. “I know. I know you wanted to help, but let's not talk about it tonight please. The evening was tiring enough as it was. So let's just...” He yawned and scooted closer to his boyfriend, burying his head on his shoulder and slinging one arm over his waist. “.. go to sleep”.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated :D 
> 
> Take care <3
> 
> btw: you can find me [here](https://anti-bright-places.tumblr.com)


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